Some Things Are Far Worse Than Death
by HP585
Summary: The Inquisitor had been right about one thing-some things are far worse than death.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Disney is great at storytelling but it's a cartoon so they tend to skip over the nitty-gritty stuff, which leaves it wide open to the imagination. That's where I find the most fascinating storylines-in the "in-between".

Hera led him back to the Ghost after meeting Ahsoka Tano. He wasn't so exhausted that he didn't notice how short Hera had been with the former Jedi and Commander Sato. The Twi'lek was a force to be reckoned with when she put her mind to something. Before he'd really had time to process it all, she'd whisked him away from the debriefing, telling the Commanders that Ezra could fill them in on any details they needed.

Sabine had trailed after them with her arms full of bandages and bacta. He wasn't sure when she'd managed to get them. He thought she'd been following them since he arrived but he didn't remember stopping at any med center. He decided not to worry about it. Sabine left the supplies on his bunk and turned to leave. He grabbed the Mandolorian girl's hand and squeezed it before letting her go. She'd given him the beginnings of a bright smile before slipping out of the room.

Hera had obviously designated herself his medic and shushed his question about the Rebellion's medcenter and a 2-1B med droid. She quickly unclasped his body armor. Frankly, Kanan had no idea why the Imperials hadn't taken it from him. It was great for protecting him from glancing blaster shots but it had been absolutely useless while being interrogated by the Inquisitor and Tarkin.

Hera attempted to remove his shirt but when raising his arms above his chest caused him to let out a cry of pain, she ended up cutting it off. Kanan heard her breath catch when she caught sight of his bruised and battered body. He didn't want to see it. If it looked as bad as he felt, it must be pretty bad.

Kanan was pretty sure the Inquisitor had broken several of his ribs during their fight and, over the course of his detainment; the troopers hadn't gentle in their treatment, reinforced stormtrooper armor left painful bruises. He marveled at how easily the Force had augmented his tortured body and suppressed the pain during his battle with the Inquisitor.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off and the Force was no longer supporting him, he could feel the pain. When he did look down, he saw a mottled collection of bruises from deep black to faded purple and some scattered yellow and green. Raw, blistering wounds oozed a clear liquid where the electroprods had contacted his skin. He looked away.

Hera refrained from saying anything but Kanan knew her too well. She worried her bottom lip as she generously applied burn salve and bacta to the open wounds.

Kanan sat quietly, only flinching when she wrapped his bruised and broken ribs with bacta and bandages. Her touch was soft and soothing on his aching ribs. He tried to think back to the last time he'd held Hera before being captured. What was it? Two—no, three weeks previously? Kriff, he'd lost all track of time while captured. Actually, he had no idea how long he'd been tortured by Tarkin and the Inquisitor. He thought about asking but decided he didn't really want to know at the moment.

Every limb felt like quicksand. Exhaustion was creeping into his muscles, making them tremble. He ached for the oblivion of sleep, but knew it wouldn't come easily. He'd spent much of the first few days (weeks?) of captivity undergoing an intense sleep deprivation cycle.

Then they'd brought in the mind probe.

He'd known that while he could block the probe from forcing him to reveal his secrets, it didn't block him from reliving memories and accompanied pain. Information on Ezra and Hera had been forced to tip of his tongue before he'd managed to swallow the words.

He felt his body shudder at the thought of that kriffin' probe. Every memory had been twisted into a deformed never-ending nightmare by the forced mind invasion. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been forced to watch Hera, Ezra, Zeb and Sabine die in horrible, gruesome ways before he'd finally been allowed to wake up, only to face electrical torture by those damn prods. It'd even gotten to the point where Kanan actually preferred the physical agony of the shocks rather than having to relive his worst nightmares over and over and _over_.

A warm hand on his cheek pulled him from his morose thoughts. Hera had finished bandaging his ribs and knelt in front of him. She had tears in her eyes as she regarded him. Kanan turned his head slightly and placed a kiss on the palm of her hand. He met her eyes and, not for the first time, he thought how he could happily get lost in her green eyes, the forever kind of lost. He may have cursed the Empire for ruining everything good in his life at one point, but after he'd met Hera and she'd single-handedly pulled him from the downhill depression that was his life, he couldn't say it anymore. He still hated the Empire, but if all the kriffin' horrible crap hadn't happened, he would never have met Hera. Never would have met the rest of the Ghost crew, never would have met Ezra. Never would have known this kind of love—the love of a family, of a friend, of a woman that he'd gladly give his own life for.

He covered her hand with his own and used his free arm pull her to him, despite the accompanying pain. There was no resistance as she curled into his neck. Words were not needed between them, not the common platitudes of affections that most people needed anyway. It was the small looks, gestures, and touches that summed up their relationship and it made it all the more precious to him. She knew him like no else ever had and, he thought, like one else ever would.

He barely noticed his neck was damp from her silent tears. He tugged her away so he could see her face but didn't release his hold. He carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks. She attempted to give him a smile, but failed.

"Kanan… We should have come sooner…I should have..." she tore her eyes away and looked down.

He understood. Hera, with her unwavering dedication to her ideals, morals, the Rebellion, her crew, was worried he'd think less of her for not putting him first. She thought he blamed her for not coming to rescue him from that hell, but he'd never once thought that, couldn't ever think that. Not of her.

"Hera," he tilted her chin back to face him. "I'm glad you didn't come after me. If Tarkin had caught you—or Ezra…" He trailed off as the horror of that thought coursed through him. The Inquisitor had been right about one thing, some things were _far_ worse than death. "It would have…" he swallowed thickly. "It would have broken me."

Fresh tears spilled over her cheeks and all Kanan wanted to do was hold her. So he did. She helped him lay down on his bunk before curling into his side, clutching him as tight as she could without hurting him. It still hurt but Kanan didn't care.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice wavered. "I was so afraid I lost you."

Kanan tightened his grip for a moment, "You saved me. From the moment I met you and every moment since, you've saved me."

He savored the warmth of her body next to his as they lay there together. He felt himself drifting off against his will. He desperately wanted to stay awake, terrified of what he would see in his dreams, but his aching body, weary soul, and the warmth of the woman he so deeply loved proved a combination too great to resist. Her arm rested protectively across his chest and before he faded into unconsciousness, he laced his fingers through hers.


End file.
